


For Sentimental Reasons

by Acting4Hope



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: (which is relatable), Character Study, Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Songfic, Takes Place After Ep 20 But Before Ep 21, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, a lot of ned being unsure of his emotions and ignoring them, let my boys be soft griffin u coward, this is kinda angsty but also extremely soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 22:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17795531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acting4Hope/pseuds/Acting4Hope
Summary: Ned Chicane would like the world to believe that he’s a natural when it comes to romance.or: How To Fall in Love With Bigfoot by An Idiot Who Can't Accept His Emotions





	For Sentimental Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> happy (late bc it's 1 AM) valentine's day people!!!! this fic was entirely based on the song of the same name by Nat King Cole (give it a listen its very soft), which i listened THE NIGHT BEFORE and realized i wanted to write barclane for it. needless to say, like 6k words later, i got what i wanted. thank god i only have 1 class tomorrow. 
> 
> (also, in case u were wondering, my sorta design-inspo for writing barclay is [crikadelic's barclay](https://crikadelic.tumblr.com/post/180680167953/me-designing-amnesty-npcs-everyone-gets) so go check out their work if u wanna see how i wanted barclay to look in this. also just check out their artwork in general, all of their amnesty designs are super good and i would let all of their female designs smash me) 
> 
> also fair warning, none of this is edited bc i wrote it in several long hours and im still very much sick with a cold, so hope you can live with that lmao and enjoy!!!

Ned Chicane would like the world to believe that he’s a natural when it comes to romance. A practical Casanova; a picture-perfect Romeo (minus all the murder and poisoning).

 

In reality, though, he isn’t. He’s hopeless; absolutely and undoubtedly a complete dunce at romance. He can’t pick up on signals to save his life; and while flirting comes natural to him in the grifting game, the second he needs it to be sincere he either chokes or sounds completely disingenuous. And what a cruel witch Fate is: to give a man the ability to do everything  _ except  _ be genuine. 

 

But he wouldn’t let anyone know these faults. No, Ned Chicane would rather be hit by a moving train than admit any of his shortcomings. He hides everything under tons of charisma and sleaze, preferring the world to view him as a lazy scuzzball than someone trying desperately to be an honest man but with none of the capabilities to do so. 

 

There were times when he let his faults come through; but those times are long gone, lost in the smoke and haze of an exhaust pipe sputtering around a bent pine tree. Nowadays, it’s easy for Ned to hide how much of a hopeless romantic he is. Small towns don’t bring in a lot of new faces to fall for, especially given Ned’s age and appearance. Not that either of those things have ever brought Ned down; he’s a man who prides his age lines and slightly greying beard. But he knows he isn’t any man’s ideal partner; he lost that time of peak physique to another shadow of his looming past. 

 

So Ned is able keep his secrets safe inside, knowing there’s no reason for them to come out. 

 

Well, that was what Ned  _ thought _ he could do. 

 

And then he met Barclay. 

 

\--- 

 

Well, he met Barclay  _ again _ . Technically, Ned’s seen the man a handful of times in passing (again, small towns are  _ small _ , and Ned’s sure he’s bumped shoulders with the imposing man in Leo’s General Store), but he never really  _ met  _ the man until he got tangled up in this world of monster-hunting he now exists in. But the night he was out there in that fucking Wookie costume, watching the gentle, nervous frame of Barclay morph into the lumbering, massive form of  _ Bigfoot _ , was the first time in a  _ long  _ time that Ned’s heart had leapt right into his throat. 

 

And it wasn’t just because of the giant undead bobcat headed right for him. Or the fact that he had just seen  _ motherfucking Bigfoot _ . 

 

But it was easy enough to ignore attraction; Ned’s felt attraction to plenty of men in his lifetime to know how to let that shit slide. It became especially easy to ignore after the Bigfoot video got out, as he was absolutely certain that Barclay hated his guts. 

 

He can live with an attractive man hating his guts. He’s done it before. 

 

It was when Ned started to realize that Barclay  _ didn’t  _ hate him, through idle conversation around the Lodge and long evenings spent in the kitchen together, that Ned started to panic. Because that attraction was back--it had never left, to be quite honest--and was now  _ festering _ and  _ building  _ into something much, much more dangerous. Something that Ned couldn’t keep a cap on much longer; something that was burning underneath his boisterous laughter and snide comments. 

 

Something that would leave Ned well and fucked if he ever let it out. 

 

So, Ned did what he did best: he ran. 

 

Well, he didn’t  _ run away _ . Couldn’t even if he tried. He just...distanced himself. From the Lodge, from the Pine Guard, and from Barclay. Spent more time in the Cryptonomica and on  _ Saturday Night Dead _ . When prodded about it (because  _ of course  _ he has to care about one of the most nosy magic users on Earth), he simply brushed it off and pinned it all on Agent Stern’s presence. It was easy to put the blame on the F.B.I. agent, especially given that everyone at the Lodge knows of Ned’s feelings about law enforcement. 

 

It gets left alone, for a while. After all, it’s not like Ned ever truly  _ left _ ; he still comes around the Lodge when it’s necessary. Goes to Pine Guard meetings, hangs out with Aubrey when she gets especially whiny, and loiters in the lobby to keep Stern distracted. But now, Ned knows when his clock is up, and makes his exit before a certain bearded chef can ask him to stay for tea. 

 

On a particular Saturday evening, when Aubrey and Duck are there to help Ned set up his show, Aubrey mentions that Barclay’s seemed kind of lonely, lately. “Keeps asking about you,” She said to Ned, keeping her focus on the cobwebs she’s dangling along the set. “Asks me when you’re coming to the Lodge. Maybe you should go over and hang out, one day.” 

 

Ned knows Aubrey means nothing of it and is only trying to make casual conversation, but her words sit heavy on Ned’s chest the rest of the night. Until he’s left laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with the weight of that  _ something  _ practically suffocating his heart. 

 

He ignores it. 

 

The weight lifts, for a while. 

 

\--- 

 

But then things get busy with the Pine Guard. Abominations become harder to kill, Stern becomes harder to ignore, and it all leads into Ned being given the custody of one Ryan-Gosling-esque goat man named Billy. Which keeps Ned at the Cryptonomica  _ more _ , as he now has to suddenly train a monster to act like a person (a person with the vocabulary of “Duck”, “pizza”, and “grow”). Kirby becomes a blessing in disguise, with his undying trust of Ned and cluelessness around the true nature of Billy, and assists Ned in running the Cryptonomica while Ned plays teacher for a few hours each day. Then there’s this newfound weight on Ned’s shoulders in the form of bone-crushing  _ guilt _ , discovered in the hours he spent half-conscious in a hospital bed while Aubrey shared the unfortunate death of her mother at the sight of Ned’s last robbery.

 

And then, of course, Boyd rears his handsome head and steals  _ everything  _ Ned’s spent years building in this fucking town.  _ Literally _ steals it, and makes this stupid fucking deal that puts  _ even more  _ guilt on his shoulders because he’s going to have to steal from the people he’s spent months growing to care for and then they’re going to hate him and see him for the true monster he is and  **_shit_ ** . 

 

Everything sucks for Ned. 

 

So, almost without thinking about it, he starts showing up at the Lodge more often. 

 

He’ll tell himself it’s because Billy’s not the best company, or because he’s gotta scope out the place for this job for Boyd, but the reality is that he’s never felt more at-home in a place than he has at Amnesty Lodge. And it isn’t just because of the warm atmosphere, or the friends he’s made that reside here. 

 

The sounds of gentle humming coming from the kitchen are like a siren’s song, bringing Ned back day-and-day again to drown further in this unspeakable  _ something  _ that simmers in his core. Barclay’s noticed Ned coming around more often, and the smile he gives Ned the moment he enters is enough to let Ned know that he’s  _ home _ . Even if that home comes with the price of Ned suffocating under the weight of his  _ something _ , along with the guilt that if Barclay knew who Ned truly was that he would not be smiling at Ned the way he does so often. 

 

They start to talk again, like they did months ago, and Ned clings to his facade like it’s a life-preserver. He hides his feelings under eyerolls and clever one-liners. Under dramatic recounts of his not-so-glamorous past and well-timed laughter during Barclay’s recounts of his own life. Under friendly pats on the shoulder and slaps on the back. Under anything that can hide the way Ned’s face flushes when Barclay laughs at one of his jokes, or the way Ned’s heart races when Barclay simply locks  _ eyes  _ with him. 

 

He’s so  _ fucked _ . Well and truly devastated. Might as well start digging his grave now. 

 

And on top of all of this, it’s now  _ February _ . 

 

Which means Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. 

 

_ Shit _ . 

 

\--- 

 

It’s February 3rd, and Ned’s stuck pacing back-and-forth in his office like a fucking  _ dunce _ , when Aubrey suddenly bursts through the door of the Cryptonomica and announces to the world: “Ned Fucking Chicane,  _ where are you _ ?!” 

 

It startles Kirby, who was in the middle of teaching Billy to work the cash register, and causes Billy to let out a delighted, “Pizza!” in response. 

 

“U-Uh, hey Aubrey,” Kirby says, shaking off his shock with a small wave. “He’s in the back.” He points to the office door, then turns to yell, “ _ Hey Boss _ ,  _ Aubrey’s _ \--” 

 

But Ned’s already coming through the office door, scaring Kirby yet  _ again  _ as Ned weaves his way around the pair to Aubrey on the other side of the counter. “I heard her loud and clear, Kirby!” He calls out as he opens the door to come to the other side of the counter, smiling with just a  _ touch  _ of annoyance at Aubrey as he comes to her. “Hello Aubrey. To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you today--” 

 

“Outside. Conversation.  _ Now _ .” Aubrey says, cutting Ned off completely as she grabs his arm and drags him out of the store. She sounds gravely serious, and Ned becomes suddenly aware of his nerves as he allows himself to be dragged out the front door and onto the small porch of the Cryptonomica. He thinks of all the things that could have gone wrong at the Lodge; Stern finding out the truth of the matter, the abomination coming early and killing one of the residents, the abomination killing  _ Barclay _ \-- 

 

He pulls himself out of that spiraling train of thought as Aubrey turns to face Ned. 

 

“What happened?” Ned asks, preparing himself for the worst. “Stern arrest anyone? Bom-bom make an early appearance? Someone  _ died _ ? Come on, Aubrey, just  _ tell me  _ what--” 

 

“Ah, geez, Ned, it’s nothing like that!” Aubrey says quickly, noticing the panic laced in Ned’s voice. She waves her free hand through the air placatingly, and Ned suddenly has to wonder what the hell is going on then if it’s not dire. 

 

“Then what the hell is it that you had to come  _ marching  _ into my store,  _ announce  _ loudly for my presence--which is  _ very  _ rude, might I add--and  _ drag  _ me all the way outside for?” Ned replies, hitting each point with a dramatic wag of his finger. Aubrey rolls her eyes and lets go of Ned’s arm. 

 

“Well, it is  _ serious _ , but it’s not, like,  _ serious _ -serious.” She clarifies, rolling her eyes again when Ned levels her with A Look. “Look, it’s important! Valentine’s Day is in, like, a week and I  _ know  _ you don’t have anything planned for Barclay yet!” Ned sputters, his mind grasping onto Aubrey’s words and then dropping them a second later in favor of short-circuiting. 

 

“Wh--I don’t--Ho--” Ned sputters, feeling his face grow hotter by the second. Aubrey’s face splits into a shit-eating grin, watching Ned in delight as he turns as red as her hair. Ned shuts his mouth and stares at Aubrey, knowing his words will do nothing to aid him now. She stares back, eyebrow quirked curiously yet knowingly. A silent conversation is shared in those few seconds before Ned throws his head back and groans, feeling utterly miserable as Aubrey whoops in triumph. Ned trudges the two steps it takes to the old rocking chair and slumps down into it, letting his hands catch his face in a display of misery. He hears Aubrey settle onto the old bench beside him and waits a few miserable moments before picking his head up and gazing at her in despair. 

 

“...Am I that obvious?” He asks, which earns himself a laugh. Wonderful, good to know his turmoil is amusing to Aubrey. Or maybe he’s rubbed off a bit  _ too  _ much on the girl. 

 

“I mean, I guess not? Since Dani was surprised when I told her,” Aubrey explains. “But, I know  _ you _ , and I know  _ Barclay _ . Soooo it was pretty easy to figure out something was up.” She grins again, this time with less snark. “I just thought you’d do  _ something  _ by now to show Barclay, but I guess The Lady Flame will have to step in and save the day!” Ned is barely able to process the words she’s just said before she’s back up and pacing in front of Ned, a near-exact reflection of what had been doing for hours prior to her arrival. 

 

“So I was thinking flowers because  _ obviously  _ flowers are the easiest way to show you love someone, right?” There she goes, hitting that  _ something  _ right over the head and then passing it by like it’s nothing. “I’ve been asking Dani what kinds of flowers she thinks Barclay likes, and  _ she  _ told  _ me  _ that he likes sunflowers. Which is, like, not really the type of flowers I’d get on  _ Valentine’s Day _ , but, like, if he likes ‘em, why not, ya know?” Oh god, this has to stop. “And  _ then  _ I was thinking about dates because  _ obviously  _ flowers aren’t enough. Like, this is an important occasion, so go all out! So I was thinking you’d take him on a walk through the woods--” 

 

“Aubrey,”  _ Please stop _ , his mind screams. 

 

“--and while you did  _ that _ , me and Dani could cook y’all a really romantic dinner. Like, a pot roast! Or steak and lobster tails. Ya like lobster Ned? We’ll figure that out later.  _ Anyway _ \--” 

 

“ _ Aubrey _ .” 

 

“-- _ then  _ I was thinking that you could go stargazing because that shit’s cute--” 

 

“ _ Aubrey! _ ” 

 

“--and don’t worry about ambience, ‘cause I got  _ all  _ of that shit taken care of. I got the old records, and nice candles, and cozy blankets. Everything to tell Barclay you lo--” 

 

“ _ Aubrey, please shut up, for the love of Christ _ !!” Ned shouts as he suddenly stands. Aubrey stares at him, mouth open in a small “o” as Ned pushes past her and to the front door. “I’m not doing anything for Barclay for Valentine’s Day because there  _ is  _ nothing there! He doesn’t--I don’t--there’s no reason.”

 

“B-But you two are so  _ perfect  _ for each other!” Aubrey exclaims, and boy could she ever be so wrong. It makes Ned laugh, low and sad, as he opens the door and makes his way inside. 

 

“Unfortunately, my friend, you could not be further from the truth,” Is all he says as he lets the door shut behind him, not chancing a look behind him until he’s back inside the safety of his office. 

 

He never sees the look of dejection etched across Aubrey’s features, slowly replaced by determination as she storms back to Amnesty Lodge. 

 

\--- 

 

Ned avoids the Lodge for a few days, following his conversation with Aubrey. He’s too afraid of confronting her (and the many  _ somethings  _ she seemingly exudes from her being) or anyone who might know of what transpired. But, luckily, the topic seemingly gets dropped and Ned makes his grand re-entrance to Amnesty Lodge only to find something slightly peculiar: 

 

It would seem that Barclay is avoiding Ned entirely. 

 

Ned notices it immediately; the way the man steers clear of the main lobby and keeps himself locked in the kitchen whenever Ned is around. He’ll be out chatting with Jake one moment, and then in the next (when Ned enters the room) he’s hurrying off to Mama’s office or to the kitchen with some half-assed excuse about work that needs to be done. It stings, causes that  _ something  _ sitting heavy in Ned’s chest to crack and ache. Maybe Aubrey told him what had happened between her and Ned, and he thought that Ned never wanted to see him again? Maybe he finally got sick of his presence and is trying to signal to Ned to go away? Whatever the reason is, Ned’s mind runs wild with possibility that causes Barclay’s absence to sting more. 

 

He puts on a brave face, though. Ignores the hurt in favor of conversing with the other residents. Hangs out with Aubrey and Duck in the lobby, bothers Stern just for the hell of it. Anything he can do to ignore the way he can’t hear Barclay’s humming from the kitchen anymore, or how cold the room feels without his kind presence floating around like an angel. 

 

He’s about ready to bury that  _ something  _ in a hole and leave it to rot when, suddenly, he’s confronted.

 

\--- 

 

It’s the 10th, and Ned is sitting at a table in Amnesty Lodge, alone. Which is  _ fine  _ (as much as his heart screams that  _ it’s not, it’s not fine, where’s Barclay why won’t he talk to me _ ), not like Ned would be having much company if he went home. So, he sits idly by, nursing a cup of tea that Aubrey brought out to him an hour ago, that’s long since gone cold as Ned stares off into the distance. There’s no one in the lobby, really, save for him and Moira (though she appears to be packing up her sheet music for the day, which means in a few minutes Ned will  _ really  _ be alone), and the sound of the clock ticking ever onward is the only source of noise for a while. 

 

Then, out of nowhere, Ned hears a chair scrape against the floor and turns to see Barclay sitting beside him. Ned’s heart stutters to life as he regards the man with surprise. He’s looking at Ned with those kind, green eyes that have the faintest ring of orange right around the edge of the iris. His tanned skin radiates warmth into the room, and Ned notices the corner of his bottom lip tucked nervously between his teeth as he smiles.  

 

“Uh, hey Ned,” Barclay says, hand brought up to wave awkwardly. “How are you?” The casual nature of his greeting after almost a week of radio silence nearly makes Ned double over in laughter, but he manages to school his expression into a small smile. 

 

“Hello, friend Barclay!” He waves his hand in his own greeting, though with far more flair. “I’m doing well! How are you this fine evening? I haven’t seen you paromping around the Lodge lately! Has Ol’ Stern been too hot on your trail?” Barclay chuckles and shakes his head, the gesture making Ned’s heart in a painfully  _ something  _ way. 

 

“No, no, Stern’s fine,” Barclay runs a hand through his hair, stopping near his neck to rub it nervously. “I’ve just been...busy…” Ned tilts his head, curious but also amused because that was  _ such  _ an obvious lie of omission that he’s surprised it didn’t come out of Duck. 

 

“Busy?” Ned quirks a brow at his Bigfoot friend, who nervously looks to his lap like it’s hiding some ancient secret. 

 

“Well, yeah, just--not  _ busy _ -busy, but…” He sighs, letting his arm fall back to his lap as he looks up at Ned. “Would you like to have dinner with me this Thursday?” 

 

Ned chokes on air at the sudden shift in gears this conversation seems to have taken. He bends over the table, coughing on the air that refuses to enter his lungs, and feels one of Barclay’s sturdy hands land a few blows on his back. When the oxygen returns to him, and it feels less like the proverbial rug has been ripped from beneath his feet, he dares a glance up at Barclay. 

 

He looks about ready to either apologize profusely or bolt out of the room, but his eyes are glimmering with hope. It’s those eyes that Ned clings to as he sits back up, face undoubtedly flushed and sweaty, and faces this head-on. 

 

“S-Say that one more time, friend?” But not before a little reassurance that the last twenty seconds wasn’t some strange fever dream. Barclay immediately opens his mouth to apologize, but then he pauses and stares right back at Ned. It seems like what Ned’s clinging to in Barclay’s eyes is what Barclay is trying to find in Ned’s, and after a moment it looks like he’s found it because he smiles and says: 

 

“Ned, would you like to have dinner with me this Thursday?” 

 

And Ned says yes, like the absolute hopeless romantic he is. 

 

\--- 

 

Thursday, in fact, is Valentine’s Day; a fact that Ned only comes to realize as he dresses himself  in his Sunday best that very evening. His outfit was carefully curated through the dozens of leopard-print button-downs, tacky cardigan sweaters, and mustard-stained slacks by Aubrey, Duck, Kirby, and Billy in what could only be described as a cheesy-90’s-rom-com-esque montage of trying on outfits for a panel of critical judges. 

 

The drive over to Amnesty Lodge is spent in absolute silence, nerves sucking any of the usual desire to jam right out of Ned. His mind races with possibilities, worst case scenarios, and words of encouragement from friends that he’s gotten throughout the week. When he pulls into the parking lot, he takes three deep breaths, prays to any god that will listen for this to go right, and then gets out of the truck. 

 

He opens the door to Amnesty Lodge and finds it...looking normal. 

 

Huh. Don’t honestly know what Ned was expecting to see when he walked inside, but...there it is. 

 

There’s no one in the lobby, save for Aubrey, who seems to have been waiting for Ned to show up. 

 

Before Ned can even ask, Aubrey explains, “Thought you might try and bail out last-minute, so I waited around. Don’t worry though, I’m about to head out. I got my  _ own  _ date to go on!” Just as she says it, Dani emerges from the hallway, dressed normally save for a necklace that Ned’s never seen her wear before (no doubt, a gift from Aubrey, given how she looks at it on Dani with delight), and links arms with Aubrey. 

 

“Hi, Ned,” She says as the pair brush past him. “Have fun on your date!” Then, as quickly as they were there, they were gone. Now Ned was well and truly alone in the lobby. 

 

...Okay, is now the right time to panic? 

 

“Uh, Barclay?” Ned calls out, wandering further into the lobby as he surveys the room. The window to the kitchen catches his eye, as it is lined with little candles all in a row. Ned takes a wild guess and ventures over to the kitchen door, pushing it open to peer inside. 

 

The entire room is lit lowly, with candles perched in every possible area. Barclay is hunched over the kitchen’s island, sprinkling some sort of herb onto a mouth-watering mound of mashed potatoes. Music lilts softly in the room as Barclay works, and Ned watches in awe as  _ something  _ constricts his heart with a powerful squeeze. 

 

After a moment, Barclay stands to his full height, only then noticing Ned’s figure in the doorway. It’s at this full height that Ned is able to ogle Barclay’s outfit choice for tonight. Black slacks trail up to a white button-down, first button undone and sleeves rolled up to show off those powerful arms that Ned has had many a thought about. He meets Barclay’s eyes, which seem to have taken their own journey in appreciating Ned’s outfit, and is unable to stop the grin that splits across his face. Barclay smiles in a way that Ned knows is only for him; that strikes Ned with both fear and that burning sense of  _ something  _ that has been boiling over for days now. 

 

“Hey,” Barclay says softly, as if to not break this moment between them. 

 

“Hey,” Ned replies in a similar manner, taking the few steps forward to fully enter the kitchen. “You look...God, Barclay, you look  _ amazing _ .” Barclay’s face darkens and he laughs, emboldening Ned to take the few more steps to reach him. 

 

“Always the flatterer, aren’t ya, Ned?” He says good naturedly, pulling out the chair he’s standing beside so Ned can sit at the island. Ned sits, watching Barclay as he circles the island to grab a bottle of wine and uncork it. “Well, I have to say, you also look amazing, tonight. I...Turtlenecks do wonders for your collarbone.” Ned feels himself burn with his blush as he chuckles, reaching up to feel his collarbone almost instinctively. 

 

“Why, thank you, dear. I’ll try to wear them more often, then.” The pet name is meant as a joke, but neither man is able to shake how  _ good  _ it feels to be heard. Barclay pours them both wine and then makes his way to his chair, unfolding a napkin to place in his lap as he gestures to the food in front of them both. 

 

“Didn’t really know your favorites, so I went with a classic: seared steak, basted in a rosemary-butter, with roasted garlic mashed potatoes and roasted asparagus.” Barclay explains, and Ned is unable to stop the growl his stomach makes as the aromas from his plate finally waft to his nose. 

 

“Sounds positively divine,” Ned says, for lack of better words, and the two dig into their dinner happily. 

 

One hour turns to two turns to three as the pair enjoys their meal, peppered with light conversation and plenty of wine. Barclay seems like a never-ending fountain of conversation, as he goes seamlessly from one story to another with a vigor and life unlike anything Ned has ever seen before. Ned, of course, shares his a fair amount of anecdotes and dumb jokes (that, for some reason, leave Barclay gasping for air every time). Barclay eventually remembers dessert (an apple crumble he made hours ago and left in the oven to reheat later, along with homemade vanilla ice cream), and the two share that along with more wine and conversation. 

 

Eventually, they run out of wine, but the talking never seems to end. That  _ something  _ grows and grows within Ned, practically clawing at his throat to come out; but he keeps it tamped down. Refuses to let it ruin this evening with how raw it burns in his throat and how empty it leaves his stomach, despite being full of delicious food and drink. Barclay doesn’t notice Ned’s inner struggle, and continues to be a gracious dinner date as he laughs and chimes in to Ned’s stupid stories of years past. 

 

The only thing that manages to halt conversation is the music (which was lilting softly throughout the evening) fading away to nothing but the sound of a record spinning over the needle. Barclay notices it first and turns his head to the record player sitting on the far counter. 

 

“Ah, geez,” Barclay says with a laugh as he stands. “We been talking so long, the record played right through.” He makes his way over to the record player and stops it, plucking the record from it to slip back into its cover. He bends down to put it away, and it’s only then that Ned notices the large crate of records sitting on the ground beside the counter. 

 

“Didn’t know you were such the connoisseur of the arts,” Ned remarks as he watches Barclay skim through the records. “Say, do you have any Kenny Chesney?” That earns him a laugh as Barclay stands, holding another record sleeve that he carefully removes the record from. 

 

“I dunno, Ned. I’d have to, uh, I’d have to check.” Barclay says, stifling his chuckles as he places the record onto the track and pulls the needle back down. “For now, will this suffice?” Then, the mellow sound of a piano filters softly through the room as Barclay makes his way back to the island. The gentle vibrato of a man’s voice comes in as Barclay sits back down, and it takes Ned a second before he’s able to recognize the voice. 

 

“Are you a fan of Nat King Cole, Barclay?” Ned asks as the song, “Unforgettable”, comes into full swing. Barclay shrugs, running his fingers idly along the edge of the counter. 

 

“I guess so. Thought the album was a little more fitting to the...mood,” His voice tapers off at the end, and Ned is acutely aware of how close they are as the weight of his words sink in. They mingle with that  _ something _ that’s bubbling in the back of his throat, and fear suddenly strikes through his very core. This all means something, something that Ned isn’t sure he’s deserving of having, something that feels too much like that  _ something  _ that’s been burning in him ever since he figured out that it hasn’t been attraction for so long, it’s been this horrible, terrible realization that-- 

 

“Ned?” Barclay’s voice cuts through the storm, and Ned finds himself back in the kitchen with Barclay watching him in concern. 

 

Ned pulls himself together enough to manage a smile (though it strains too hard on the corners to be believable) as he says, “Yes, dear?” The dear doesn’t quite hit the same way it did before, as Barclay frowns just the tiniest bit more. 

 

“I just asked if you liked the song that was playing,” He says, and Ned can barely hear it over the thumping in his ears. He nods anyway, though, for lack of a better ploy to use. 

 

“Yes, yes, it’s lovely.” Ned replies, though he can tell that was the wrong answer. Barclay reaches out and places a hand over one of Ned’s, and it’s the first time the whole night that they’ve touched fully like this. It sets every nerve in Ned’s body alight in both delight and absolute terror, and Ned jumps just the tiniest bit. It’s enough that Barclay notices, who immediately retracts his hand and leaves Ned feeling cold. 

 

“Ned, are you alright?” Barclay asks, hands nervously wringing together. “Is...Is something wrong?” 

 

“No, no, no!” Ned backpedals, hands flying up to wave placatingly. “Everything’s fine! I just--” 

 

And here it is: the moment that Ned’s been avoiding for months. That exact moment where everything is out there for him to say--to  _ do _ \--and Barclay is willing to hear it. He knows he is, can see it in the furrow of his brows and the nervous tension in his hands. Ned could say it now, and Barclay would hear him out. 

 

Hell, he might even  _ reciprocate _ . He seems to feel  _ something _ , if tonight has been anything to go by. And Ned may be impossible with his own emotions, but he’s not  _ blind _ . He knows that Barclay feels something for him. Maybe he didn’t  _ always  _ know that, but he certainly knows it  _ now _ . Can feel it in the way he gazes at him, and see it in the smile that never seems to fade.  

 

Ned could put words behind that  _ something _ and finally let it out.  _ Something  _ could become  _ everything _ . 

 

But then Ned remembers the last time he had  _ everything _ , all wrapped up in a snide British accent and matching tattoos, and he stutters. He remembers long stretches of road filled with companionable laughter, and hot summer nights filled with breathless moments in between long kisses, and words spoken in covers never to be heard by another soul, and he stutters. And he realizes that he can’t have  _ everything  _ again because he ruined it. Dashed his  _ everything  _ on a dream and a house now reduced to ashes. Lost it on a country road and a last-second attempt to avoid getting caught. Saw it dead in the cold, blue irises of his ex-partner, who stared at him weeks ago like he was a ghost amongst the living. 

 

He wants it so desperately, but he doesn’t deserve a second chance when he ruined Boyd so thoroughly. 

 

“I’m just...tired.” Ned says, at last, feeling his body hollow out as he retreats under his layers of grime and smize. “Guess my old bones can’t handle long nights like it used to.” He stands up suddenly, feeling Barclay’s stare pierce him as he throws back on his coat. “I should get going, though. I’m sure you have things to do in the morning, and I have the Cryptonomica to run. Dinner was lovely though; my compliments to chef.” He moves on instinct, turning away and toward the door as his mouth works on autopilot. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, Barclay. Have a wonderful ni--” 

 

“ _ Ned _ .” Barclay’s voice stops Ned dead in his tracks; and though all he wants to do is run far away and never look back, he turns. Barclay’s right there, concern set deep on his face as he watches Ned. Ned feels his breathing quicken as he stands frozen in place, suddenly unable to move an inch as Barclay slowly approaches him. 

 

The music lilts softly through the air around them as Barclay’s hand finds Ned’s and interlaces their fingers together. Ned’s eyes immediately lock on their hands, watching scarred fingers link around hairy knuckles. His gaze slowly drifts back up to Barclay’s face, soft and searching as he looks into Ned’s very soul and says: 

 

“Stay.  _ Please _ .” 

 

And Ned may be a coward, and a bastard, and undeserving of this  _ something _ -almost- _ everything _ , but he’s also soft. So when a voice, so soft and pleading, asks Ned to stay; Ned’s going to fucking  _ stay _ . He lets their joined hands buoy him as Barclay slowly pulls them across the floor to an open spot in the room. And even when he’s stopped walking, he keeps pulling Ned closer and closer, until he’s able to place a firm hand on his waist. 

 

As if on cue, the next song plays on the record; and as Barclay begins to gently sway them both, Ned hears the opening verse filter in. 

 

_ I love you,  _

_ For sentimental reasons.  _

_ I hope you do believe me,  _

_ I’ll give you my heart.  _

 

It hits harder than words could ever, and Ned feels it wash over him as he sways along with Barclay. His free hand shakily settles on Barclay’s shoulder, giving in fully to the emotions he’s suddenly swept into. 

 

_ I love you,  _

_ And you alone were meant for me.  _

_ Please give your loving heart to me  _

_ And say we’ll never part. _

 

He feels more than sees the remaining distance close between their bodies, as Ned lets his head rest against Barclay’s shoulder. He can smell the cologne Barclay wears--musk with a dash of oak and burned wood--can feel the way his body thrums with energy and life. Life that Ned wants to share in; experience every remaining second and cling to like it’s the last he’ll ever have it. 

 

_ I think of you every morning,  _

_ Dream of you every night.  _

_ Darling, I’m never lonely  _

_ Whenever you are in sight.  _

 

Barclay leans his head forward, breath ghosting along Ned’s ear as he hums along with the music. Ned lets his eyes drift shut, feeling as though the world has fallen away to just the two of them locked in this never-ending embrace. He knows the moment he opens his eyes that he’ll have to face the consequences of this; face the possibility of being open like this to someone again and what that may entail. But, for now, he floats in this moment of warmth and understanding and  _ love _ , so much  _ love _ . 

 

_ I love you,  _

_ For sentimental reasons.  _

_ I hope you do believe me,  _

_ I’ve given my heart.  _

 

“Ned?” Barclay murmurs, his voice resonating through both of their bodies. It causes Ned’s eyes to drift open, as he turns his head just enough to face him. Barclay’s face is tender and warm, gazing at Ned with nothing but  _ love  _ as his hand lifts from Ned’s waist to drift under his chin. It’s like a magnetic force, the way they lean in like it’s nothing, and the vocals lilt back in as their lips part from each other’s. 

 

_ I love you,  _

_ For sentimental reasons.  _

_ I hope you do believe me,  _

_ I’ve given my heart.  _

 

The songs finishes, but even then their world remains the same. They sway in this space for a while, meeting for soft kisses in between long moments of loving gazes, until the record comes to a close. And even then, as Barclay walks Ned all the way back to his truck, pressing one final kiss to his cheeks, his forehead, and then his lips, they remain in their own world. 

 

“Goodnight,” Barclay murmurs, unable to stop himself from one more kiss before taking a step away. 

 

“Goodnight, dear,” Ned replies, just as softly, relishing in the warmth that now lives in him as he watches Barclay climb the steps back up and into the Lodge. After one long second to just breath, Ned clamors into his truck and drives off, knowing the  _ love  _ filling his life in this moment is not fleeting, not unwanted, and definitely the start to  _ something  _ new and uncharted in his life. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys like my writing, feel free to send requests on [my tumblr](http://lesbian--susie.tumblr.com/)!!! Or if you just wanna come yell at me abt amnesty-related stuff, feel free idc


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